


Visualize Healing

by sailorstkwrning



Series: Team Bed [4]
Category: Columbus Blue Jackets - Fandom, Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Team Bed, Team Bonding, Team Building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:32:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2705822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorstkwrning/pseuds/sailorstkwrning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob is pretty sure their Team Bed - like half the team - is broken, and he's determined to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visualize Healing

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Sinsense for assistance with nicknames! (Though I maintain "Monkey" is a far better choice for Gibbons than "Gibby". GET WITH IT, NHL.)
> 
> Anyway. As per usual, un-beta'd because I'm impatient. Title from _Budding Trees_ by Nahko and Medicine for the People because I was listening to it while I was writing.
> 
> 100% fiction, if you got here by googling yourself or someone you know: HIT THE BACK BUTTON NOW.

There were many things Bob had found strange about America when he first arrived: the food, for one. The NHL custom of Team Bed, for another.

“Not have in KHL,” he had tried to explain to Nick, one time, and Nick had frowned and nodded but let it go.

But now he’s been in America for a few years, and while the food is still sometimes weird, he’s grown accustomed to the Team Bed. More than that, he’s grown to like it. 

He’s even grown to feel _protective_ of it, this space they’re given, as a team, to be together. No coaches, no trainers, no reporters, nobody but them.

And right now, the Columbus Blue Jackets Team Bed is, to be blunt, a disaster. The sheets are clean but there are holes in several places, where they got caught on various braces, and they also smell strongly of industrial detergent. (“I know, it smells bad,” Nick had said, when Bob mentioned it. “But the last fucking thing we need is the mumps.”) The pillows are limp and flat. The substitute quilt - the special, fan-made one has been put away to keep it safe - is faded and worn from all the extra washing.

The team is a disaster, too, and Bob has the very strong feeling the two are related.

And he has an idea how to fix it.

**

Getting in and out of the housewares department at Target without being recognized is both surprisingly easy and something of a relief. Bob loves the fans, he does, but: he’s on a mission here, and he’s only a got a few hours to get everything done.

Getting inside Nationwide Arena undetected is not nearly as easy, especially when he’s pushing a cart full of bags from Target. He gives all the usual areas a wide berth, but then the cart gets stuck on something, and crinkly, rattly bags and his muffled swearing cause someone to pop out to investigate.

That someone is, of course, Nick.

“Hi,” Bob says, yanking the cart around and taking a deep breath to settle himself. Maybe he can brazen it out somehow.

“What is - did you just clean out a Target?” Nick asks, peering into the cart, his fingertips brushing over the bags.

“Is for special goalie thing,” Bob tries, and Nick gives a look that is both disbelieving and kind of hurt.

Bob sighs. Nick and that look are both the worst.

“Is for bed,” he says. “Is broken, I’m fix.”

“No,” Nick says, now sounding alarmed. “Bob, we have carpenters for that -”

“Not need _carpenter_ ,” Bob says, pulling back the edge of one of the bags to show Nick the contents. “Just new sheets. I wash at home, make them soft, smell good.”

(There’s new pillows, as well, and blankets, but Bob isn’t going to get into that unless he has to.)

The next thing Bob knows, Nick is hugging him. Bob squeaks in surprise - and a little bit of pain, his pads usually blunt the impact of Nick’s grip - but squeezes Nick back firmly before wiggling free.

“Come on,” Bob says. “We make bed before team get here.”

Nick follows him without argument, and once they get started, Bob’s glad Nick found him, because changing the team bed really is a two-man job.

**

Nick also takes care of making sure everyone on the team knows to hang out for a minute for a team meeting after they’ve showered and dressed and had lunch, so it’s him, standing in the middle of the room, that they’re all looking at expectantly when Bob comes back from the trainers.

When he sees Bob he steps aside, but doesn’t sit down.

“Bob?” Boller says, and Bob takes a deep breath.

“I’m number one cop on the force, and you’re all under arrest. I’m send you all to bed,” Bob says.

This announcement is met with puzzled silence. Bob sighs. Fuck English.

“Bed,” he repeats, tugging Hartsy to his feet and pushing him towards the doorway that leads to the team bed room.

Jack opens his mouth, then abruptly closes it again, and gets up and follows Hartsy.

After that, the rest of them fall in line.

(Bob pretends it is his encouraging smile that gets them moving, but he has a feeling it is really Nick’s glare. Still, whatever works.)

**

By the time Bob gets in the room, they’re almost all settled: Jack in the middle, as usual, with Prouty next to him, and nearly everyone else arranged around them, mostly in their lines and d-pairings. 

Everyone but Bob, and Nick, who’s standing next to the bed, grinning.

Bob can’t help it, he grins back at him. Then Nick walks around the bed and grabs the other side of the quilt - the real one, the one that they slept under during the playoffs, the one that hundreds of fans committed blocks to, the one made with wobbly stitching but lots of love - and pulls it up over their team.

Bob holds his side up until Nick comes around, then follows him in. 

It’s a tight squeeze, because fitting over twenty hockey players into one space always is, and Bob knows Skillsy is going to snore and Gibby is probably going to kick him. But he doesn’t mind, because they’re all _here_ , warm and safe and sound and _together._

“Thanks for busting us, Bob,” someone - Rychel? - calls out, just as Bob is drifting off, and Bob smiles into his pillow and gives a thumbs up in the general direction of the voice.

**

A couple of hours later they beat the Panthers, and once Nick is done squeezing the stuffing out of him, Bob goes to administer a pat to the quilt and murmur a quick _spasibo_ to the headboard.

**Author's Note:**

> I am also on [ Tumblr!](http://sailorstkwrning.tumblr.com/)


End file.
